AN: Finally the story meanders to its climax … Thanks to Liedral and Cataclysmic for coming on board with encouraging words. I have tinkered with this chapter a lot but agree with Leona da Quirm that it still needs an overhaul, though it has some basically sound elements. I didn't mean to get quite so philosophical and, er, long-winded. But I finally had to come clean and write as "me" instead of trying to fake Rowling.
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Chapter 17. The Auror's Ransom
Salazara dropped to the floor and positioned herself in front of Frank. "We will destroy the Curser," her three heads said together. "We will destroy the Curser," Harry, Ivy, and Octavius translated in chorus. And then, by no obvious agency, the colour of the walls began to change, from a pale institutional green through turquoise and royal blue to a rich dark purple. The floor and ceiling assumed a matching shade. When the transformation was complete, the room's occupants and furnishings appeared to be floating in a purple void. Against that featureless background, the ghostly Curser showed more clearly to Harry's eyes.
"Whoa," whispered Ron. "That's more like it."
"It would be a simple matter to accomplish the Curser's death by killing the host," observed Professor Snape, as if he had noticed no change, "but what you are trying to do is far more difficult."
"Difficult, but possible when the host is strong enough. First the Curser must show his face," said Salazara's left head.
Frank, linked to Harry through the Trempath, understood the Runespoor's speech. "I've tried and tried," he said despondently. "But I can't make him do it."
Salazara's left head continued, "The best person to reveal the Curser is the one who made it. But he must do it freely and willingly."
"Well, Peter," said Octavius. "Will you take the first step in making amends? Will you show Frank the Curser's face?"
Pettigrew's eyes slid toward Lucius Malfoy, whose expression said clearly, You'll be sorry if you do. First Pettigrew tried to duck the issue. "It's not my fault. Lucius is responsible. It was his idea. Let him do it."
"But it's your Curser, Peter," said Octavius. "You know Lucius can't control it. Only you."
"But that—that snake thing—is going to kill it if I do," objected Pettigrew.
"Excuse me? That's the point," said Ron in exasperation.
"But—but the Curser is my masterpiece," Pettigrew went on in a voice of self-pity. "It's the greatest thing I ever made. It has incredible power. No, I can't let it be destroyed."
"But you don't want anyone to see its face. Why don't you just admit that you're afraid that killing it will hurt you, Peter?" said Professor Snape with contempt. "You're not willing to face a hundredth part of the suffering and humiliation that you've visited on Frank Longbottom."
Pettigrew refused to meet Snape's scowl, and refused to be shamed or goaded into cooperating. He stared at the purple floor, his arms folded, content to have brought matters to a standstill.
"I suppose the application of a leech wouldn't do any good," said Ron regretfully. "I've got half a mind to try it anyway, though," he added with more heat. But if he hoped to make Pettigrew cringe again, he was disappointed. Frustrated, Ron shouted, "Harry spared your worthless life, Wormtail! I was there when he did it. You owe him something for that. If you keep acting like the rat you are I hope Harry changes his mind and kills you now!" He stopped, realizing that a Gryffindor appeal to honour was equally useless.
After a short silence Harry said, "If Pettigrew won't agree, we could try asking the other Wormtail."
"The other Wormtail?" repeated Lucretia Longbottom, baffled.
"You mean the one in the map?" asked Hermione. "Brilliant, Harry! But would that work? He's not the real Wormtail, and besides, he went into the map before the Curser was created. Technically he's not the maker."
"Salazara, can the Wormtail in the Marauder's Map reveal the Curser's face?" asked Ivy in Parseltongue.
"I believe it is possible," Salazara's middle head replied. "The process will be somewhat more complicated," added the right.
"She says she thinks he can do it," Ivy reported.
"The real question is, will he?" said Lucius, clearly finding it improbable.
"There's one way to find out," said Harry. He placed the tip of his wand on the Marauder's Map. "Wormtail, we need your help. There's something important that only you can do for us."
A single word appeared on the map. "Me?"
"Yes, you, Wormtail," said Harry.
"Something that Moony and Padfoot and Prongs can't do?"
"That's right," said Harry. "You're the only one who's fully qualified."
"Name it."
"The real Wormtail put his Curser in Frank Longbottom over ten years ago," Harry explained. "We're trying to help Frank get rid of it. The real Wormtail refuses to show us the Curser's face, but you can do it."
The map didn't respond for several seconds. Finally, "I don't think I understand," wrote Wormtail.
"I think you do understand," appeared in Moony's handwriting. "Your future self is going to do some despicable things, Wormtail. This is your chance to make a start at redeeming yourself."
"But it wasn't me," Wormtail objected.
"Do
you want to stay in this map with us, Wormtail?" asked Padfoot
ominously. "Or do you want the rest of us to kick you out?"
"Maybe we should kick him out anyway," Prongs suggested.
"What would happen to him if they did kick him out?" asked Hermione.
"I don't know," Harry answered. "He'd probably just stop existing."
"It's your call, Prongs," wrote Moony. "Apparently he's done something rotten to you too."
"I didn't do anything! That Wormtail—that scum—isn't me!" the Wormtail in the map protested his innocence. As the conversation reached the bottom of the parchment, it continued starting at the top again, where the previous markings had gradually faded away.
"He's not you as you are now, Peter," said Octavius, "but he's you as you will become."
Wormtail's words took on a desperate note, even in writing. "I won't, I tell you. I refuse to turn into anything so vile. How could you think I would sink that low, Octavius?"
"The evidence is before my eyes."
"I can't help that. I swear to you that I would never do such a horrible thing."
"But the deed is done. It is too late to undo it."
"Frank, you believe me, don't you? I wouldn't use you that way."
Frank was silent for a long moment. "I wish I could, Peter," he said at last. "I believe you were driven by fear more than hatred. But that doesn't come near excusing anything you've done."
Aurelle spoke up.
"The Wormtail in the map is completely sincere," she said. "He is convinced that he's telling the
truth. He believes that he would
not—will not—betray us."
She turned to the real Pettigrew. "Isn't
that so, Peter?"
He looked back at her wordlessly, his eyes cold and sullen. A muscle jumped in his jaw and his hands worked together.
Neville looked shaken. "That makes it even more horrible that he did do it."
Severus Snape looked down at the Marauder's Map. "You don't want to be like me, do you, Peter?" he demanded harshly.
Wormtail's words again appeared on the map. "Like you? Slimy old Severus Snape? What a horrid thought!"
"You admire Lucius Malfoy, don't you?"
"He's a friend of mine," replied Wormtail in writing.
"Pet rat experiments," muttered Ron.
"But you wouldn't hang on his words, lick his boots, and sell your soul to prove your loyalty to him and win his favour, would you?"
"Of course not, Severus. What do you take me for?"
"Prove it, then," said Professor Snape. "Make the Curser show his face."
No more words appeared on the map for a moment. At length, "Harry, why didn't you kill that horror that everyone thinks is me?"
"So that you can prove that he's not you," said Harry, realizing the truth of it as he spoke.
"I just will, then," Wormtail wrote defiantly. "I'll show you all."
Lucius Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Well, well," he said, still skeptical. "So this Wormtail takes a different turn, does he? What do you think of that, Peter?" he addressed the real Pettigrew. But his accomplice apparently couldn't quite take it in. His eyes were studying the area between his feet again, and he looked as if he might be sick.
"But I don't know how," wrote Wormtail-in-the-map.
"That is the chief difficulty," said Salazara's right head. "The real Wormtail knows very well how to control his own Curser. For you it will be less straightforward."
"If you need instruction I will give it to you," added her left.
As Harry repeated Salazara's words in English, he suddenly knew that the Curser saw what was happening and feared for its life (such as it was). It gathered its forces and struck hard with the Cruciatus Curse. Frank and Harry both staggered under the blast, and Aurelle hid her face, quivering. Harry began the Opposition Verse, wondering frantically if he had enough reserves to hit the Curser with a good Drenching Spell. But he needed his wand to communicate with the quartet in the Marauder's Map …
"You know, I think I might be able to figure it out," mused Wormtail-in-the-map. "That robe doesn't look very well made. If I could just find the right thread …"
"It's true that I'm placed in an awkward position," murmured Harry and Frank together. Harry felt a vibration in his wand, still touching the Marauder's Map, and then an extraordinary and rather tickly sensation, as if a ghostly rat were scampering up his wand arm, across his shoulders, and down the other arm to the Trempath.
Suddenly the pain stopped. Harry saw the Curser lower its wand and twist around, clutching the back of its robes. A rat appeared at the neck of the Curser's garment. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked of Frank.
Frank started to chuckle, watching Wormtail-from-the-map worrying at the seam that attached the Curser's hood to its robes. The Curser tried in vain to catch the rat, but Wormtail was too quick for it, darting around, loosening threads and biting through knots. The Curser put its wand away and tried with both hands, but it was too late. The rat's sharp little teeth had pulled the right thread free, detaching the hood, which now became the object of a tug-of-war between the two phantoms, the Curser trying desperately to hold the hood over its face and the rat trying to pull it away.
"I see you, Curser," said Salazara's middle head, the dreamer, the visionary of the three. "You are about to be revealed. If you try to escape by taking your animal form," she warned, "it will go hard for you. So beware." And the Curser, also linked to Harry through the Trempath, understood. Harry saw Wormtail-from-the-map sink his teeth into the Curser's hand, and the Curser finally let go of the hood and grasped its wounded hand with the other. Harry felt the rat speeding back to the map the way it had come. And the Curser, looking a bit more solid and substantial than before, lifted its face.
It was Pettigrew's face—and yet it wasn't. It was Pettigrew made handsome, ruthless, majestic in his implacable cruelty: the chin stronger, the nose bolder, the eyes more compelling, the lips firm, every hint of weakness and cravenness removed. It lifted its bleeding hand to its mouth as if about to suck it, then apparently decided that such behaviour would be beneath its dignity as a powerful force of evil. Or maybe it simply couldn't; the face, now that Harry looked at it longer, was strangely immobile and wooden.
"I think I see something," said Ron tensely. "Hard to say exactly what it is …"
"The Curser has my face," wrote Wormtail-in-the-map. "But that's impossible."
"You bet it's impossible," Prongs interjected. "You're not anywhere near that good-looking, Wormtail."
"Can you see the Curser too, Prongs?" asked Harry.
"Sure thing," wrote Prongs. "Looks just as real to me as you do, Harry. Wormtail may wish he looked like that, but he doesn't quite make the grade."
"That can't be his real face," Wormtail-in-the-map decided.
"It's not," said Frank. "It is still only a mask."
"The mask must be stripped away, then," declared Wormtail-in-the-map.
"No!" cried the real Pettigrew. "Not that!" It was the first time he had spoken since the negotiation with his alter ego in the map had begun. The Curser actually turned and gave him a withering look, and in a belated attempt to recover his lapse, Pettigrew added lamely, "I mean … there's no point … that is the Curser's real face."
"No it's not," wrote Wormtail-in-the-map. "It's just pretending to be me. But I don't know how to get the mask off."
"You have done your part, Wormtail," said Salazara's middle head, and Harry translated. "What is needed now is the wand that unlocks dark secrets, and the potion that reveals things as they truly are."
Harry lifted his wand from the Marauder's Map. He held it for a moment, thinking, and then he handed it to Frank Longbottom. Frank took it, giving Harry a long look. It was the first time Frank had held a wand in twelve years.
"Gran, we need Professor Snape's potion," Harry whispered to Lucretia. She took a bottle of Anti-Psychedelic potion out of her bag and opened it. Lucius Malfoy opened his mouth, but didn't say anything.
"Freshly brewed this week, Lucius," Professor Snape informed him.
Frank held Harry's wand point down above the potion bottle, looking to Salazara for confirmation of what he was about to do. Salazara nodded her left head, and Frank lowered the wand tip into the clear fluid. When he lifted it out, the tiny scar on the tip glowed green.
The Curser felt for its own wand again, but before it could attack, Frank reached out and touched the top of its forehead with Harry's wand. A point of brilliant green-white light appeared at the point of contact, and Harry felt his scar give a single throb. The Curser trembled, unable to move. Its eyes flicked uneasily to Salazara, and it remained in its human form. Harry could see the red-black charred circle where the wand tip had burnt a hole in the Curser's skin. Slowly, delicately, Frank drew the wand down the middle of the Curser's finely modeled face, leaving an eye-searing green-white line. The Curser's mask split in half along the line and vanished. Under it appeared another face, a far different one, and yet similar. All the qualities missing from the mask's features had become exaggerated. The Curser now looked even more ratlike and weaker-chinned than Pettigrew; its little eyes held naked fear and a childish, even infantile greed—a horrible eagerness to gorge itself on the suffering of its victim.
The purple-velvet backdrop around them flushed a dark wine red. Now, with its real face exposed, the Curser lost the last of its ghostly look and appeared solid and real to Harry and (presumably) the rest of those who had already been able to see it, including Salazara's middle head. A collective gasp from the rest of the witnesses indicated that now they could see it too, even if not as clearly. Frank handed Harry's wand back, and Harry placed its tip on the Marauder's Map again.
"There, you see? That's not MY face," wrote Wormtail-in-the-map triumphantly.
"I'm afraid it is, Wormtail," said Moony grimly.
"Maybe you're not quite that ugly," added Padfoot, "yet. But there's a definite family resemblance."
"It looks at least as much like you as the mask did," remarked Prongs.
"Surely not," said Wormtail in dismay.
Lucius Malfoy had been watching with folded arms and an opaque, noncommital face. Now that he could see the Curser, he gave it a leisurely, appraising look, and then spared it a brief snort of derisive laughter. "Good heavens, Peter, couldn't you do any better than that? That's the most pitiful excuse for a Curser I've ever seen. No wonder Frank is still alive. That thing should try a career squashing bugs."
When the Curser realized that Lucius could see it, its face convulsed with shame and terror. And the force of habit, fatally strong, led it down its usual avenue of escape: its robes collapsed and the rat appeared from beneath them, trying uselessly to get away.
The Runespoor struck like lightning, and the phantom rat, now substantial enough to be caught, was suddenly writhing and squeaking frantically in the fang-jawed grip of Salazara's middle head. Harry's scar blazed with pain, and he heard Frank's sharp intake of breath. You may think you can torture me into submission, And force me to realize your fondest ambition …
On a sudden impulse, Harry pressed the Trempath against Pettigrew's arm for a moment. Pettigrew howled horribly, as if it were red-hot, and Harry could tell that Frank was thinking, Now you know how it feels, you little skunk! But revenge wasn't the important thing. Harry lifted the Trempath and the howling sank to a whimper.
Salazara's left head spoke. "Say the word, Frank Longbottom, and I will kill the Curser."
"No," sobbed Pettigrew.
Frank clenched his hands and drew a breath, nerving himself. "Do it," he said.
Harry braced himself as well. The serpent's jaws bore down. As her fangs crushed the rat's spine, Frank, Aurelle, and Harry all screamed in unison, then gasped for breath as one. At the moment of its death the creature vanished with a wet pop. A brownish liquid ran out of Salazara's mouth and made a puddle on the floor, which was beginning to look like an orinary floor again. The walls paled through orange and yellow and back to green.
"Oh yes, that's the stuff," said Aurelle with a long sigh of satisfaction.
"Whoa," said Harry, with the back of his wand hand pressed to his scar.
Frank's eyes opened wide. "The Curser is gone!" he exclaimed, and then fainted away. Octavius caught him as he fell, picked him up with ease, and laid him on the empty bed.
"Dad!" cried Neville. "Is he all right?" he asked Octavius.
"He will be," Aurelle said with certainty.
"He's alive," said Harry, still holding the Trempath. "I can feel him dreaming."
"We must not try to wake him," said Octavius. "The shock might well have killed him."
"Especially if it hadn't been for young Harry," Lucretia reminded him, taking a seat next to her unconscious son.
A horrible stench rose from the puddle (which seemed to be quite real) that was all that remained of the Curser, so stomach-turning that it reminded Harry of the Sickening Potion. Salazara opened and closed the jaws of her middle head. "That tasted awful," said her right. She glided over to Ivy, who bent down and held her arms out.
"Salazara, you did it," Ivy exclaimed as the Runespoor wound herself around her companion. "I'm so proud of you."
Harry found his wand moving back to the Marauder's Map, drawn there like a magnet.
"Are you going to let me stay?" asked Wormtail in a trembling hand.
"You did a good thing today, Wormtail," said Padfoot. "I think we will let you stay on, but only under certain conditions."
"Yes," agreed Moony. "For one thing, you have to rewrite the second line of the Sprinkling Can verse so it rhymes with 'submarine.'"
"You know I'm no good at writing poetry," complained Wormtail-in-the-map.
"No he doesn't," objected Prongs. "It works fine the way it is, even if it doesn't measure up to your literary standards, Moony. But I think he needs some kind of disciplinary probation."
"We'll think about it and get back to you, Wormtail," said Padfoot. "Consider yourself lucky to get a reprieve."
"Mr. Snape," said Hermione, "Could you answer some questions for me? There are a few things I find puzzling."
"Gladly, Miss Granger," said Octavius.
"Why did you call Barty Crouch 'Alastor'? That's Mad-Eye Moody's name."
"I noticed that too," said Harry.
"That's not difficult to explain," said Octavius. "What do you know about the last year of Crouch's life before his soul was taken?"
"He spent most of it—the last nine months—disguised as Moody," said Harry.
"Exactly. He used the Polyjuice Potion to take on Moody's appearance, using Moody's hair, and he was constantly speaking and acting like Moody. He did a convincing job, didn't he?"
"Well, we didn't exactly know him before," said Ron, "but all the teachers at Hogwarts and everyone at the Ministry of Magic seemed to be completely taken in."
"He may have absorbed more of Moody's character and thinking than he realized," Octavius continued, "and when the dementor took his soul, what was left might have been just as much Moody as Crouch. Let me show you." Octavius looked around, and not finding what he sought, pointed his wand through the bathroom door and said, "Accio mirror!" The next moment he had a large shaving mirror in his hand, and he held it up in front of Crouch. Harry could see Crouch's face reflected in the mirror, and the eyes were alive and aware. Octavius addressed Crouch's reflection with the words, "Nicely done, Alastor. Thank you," and suddenly the face in the mirror was Mad-Eye Moody's, giving Octavius a nod and a grim smile, as if to say, Any time. After a moment, Moody vanished and Crouch's face reappeared. "Part of Moody's spirit is inhabiting Crouch's body," said Octavius. "Neither of them intended it, but it's not a surprising development."
Harry had once taken Polyjuice Potion to assume the appearance of Gregory Goyle. He pushed away the thought of Goyle's consciousness invading his body. "But Crouch is there as well," he said. "I can see him."
"I can account for that too," said Octavius. "You see, dementors have no mirror reflection. Neither does the shade or phantom of anything evil. You would not have been able to see the Curser in reflected in a mirror."
"So when a dementor Kisses someone," said Hermione, "it takes his soul, but leaves the mirror-soul behind!"
"What I'm seeing is Crouch's mirror-soul, then," said Harry. Octavius nodded.
"Let me see," said Aurelle. "Show me Barty Crouch's face in the mirror."
Octavius hesitated, as if listening. "Something tells me that it might not be wise, after all you've been through, Aurelle. I have a bad feeling."
"I must see him, Octavius," she insisted.
"Why, Aurelle?"
"Because of what I know about him."
Ivy conferred with Salazara for a moment, very quietly. Then she approached her father, plucked the mirror from his hand, and handed it to Aurelle, who held it up so that she could see Crouch's face reflected in it. When their eyes met, a shiver ran through her. "My death … " she whispered. "I see my death in Barty's face."
"I was afraid of this," murmured Octavius.
"I'm sorry, Father," Ivy told him, "but you were just delaying the inevitable. You can't cheat destiny."
"What, is he going to murder you?" Ron demanded of Aurelle.
"No, nothing like that," she answered. She studied Crouch's reflection for a a long moment. Evidently she saw a question in his face, for she nodded her head. Something changed in her eyes, and at the same time Harry felt a shift in Frank's sleeping mind through the Trempath. Again he felt a presence pass through him, but this one felt icy cold and clammy. It made him think of the effect the dementors had on him.
More words appeared on the Marauder's Map.
"What IS this?!" demanded Padfoot.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't belong here," said Moony.
"It's all yours, Wormtail," said Prongs.
"But I don't want it," exclaimed Wormtail. "It feels so … so slimy. Llike a dish of tapioca, without the dish. I hate tapioca."
"Too bad," said Padfoot.
"Is it Barty Crouch's mirror-soul?" asked Harry.
"I suppose it must be," admitted Wormtail. "I think he wants to say something."
But nothing more appeared on the map.
"Try turning the map over," suggested Moony. Harry did so, and words started appearing in a different, rather staggery handwriting, and backwards to boot. Hermione read them aloud.
"AURELLE YOU KNOW I DIDNT DO IT WELL NOT MUCH. YOU TOLD ME TO STOP AND I DID. FRANK WAS STILL OK AND I NEVER TOUCHED YOU DID I. ITS NOT MY FAULT WHY SHOULD WORMTAIL GET OFF SCOT FREE BOTH OF HIM WHEN I HAVE TO SUFFER FOR WHAT HE DID. THERES NOT MUCH TIME LEFT YOU HAVE TO HELP ME AURELLE NO ONE ELSE WILL."
During the stunned silence that followed, Harry felt Barty Crouch's tapioca mirror-soul ooze through him again and appear for a moment as a fog in Aurelle's eyes. As soon as it had cleared from her face and returned to Crouch's reflection she turned to Octavius. "You've developed a method of reversing the Dementor's Kiss, haven't you, Octavius? It only works at the expense of a life willingly given, doesn't it?"
Octavius looked at her sadly, helplessly. "That is my theory," he said at last. "I haven't yet tested it. But it's not your task, Aurelle."
"I'm afraid it is, Octavius," she contradicted him. "Barty has asked me to help him."
"He didn't ask, he ordered you to help him," said Lucretia indignantly.
"And you are under absolutely no obligation …" Octavius began. Then, very quietly, he added, "You made a deal with him, didn't you, Aurelle?"
She nodded without a word.
"What exactly did you promise?" Octavius asked.
"Not to give my life to save him, if that's what you're wondering, Octavius," she told him. "Only to stand by him if he were ever unfairly treated. The kind of promise anyone would make."
"Any Hufflepuff, anyway," put in Neville.
Salazara's middle head spoke up. "Aurelle speaks the truth. She is the Auror's Ransom." Harry translated.
"I've never known Salazara to be wrong about such things," said Ivy. "It must be fated."
"Rubbish," said Ron scathingly. "Just another self-fulfilling prophecy. Can't you see that it's circular reasoning?"
"But this isn't the first time I've had a premonition of death," Aurelle went on. "A few days before Pettigrew came, I had a dream about a little girl. I know it was our unborn daughter. She told me she wouldn't be able to stay with us, and had to say goodbye. And now I find that I will have to, too."
"Frank will never allow it," said Lucretia.
"But I will allow it," said Frank. He had awakened, unnoticed by everyone but Harry.
Even Lucretia had missed seeing his eyes open. She looked at him in bewilderment. "You weren't about to allow your son to throw his life away, Frank," she argued.
"That was quite different. Neville is still a child, though he won't be for much longer," answered Frank. "And Aurelle isn't doing this for me. She's doing because of Barty's desperate need, and because it's right and just. Because what she is, and what I must allow her to be, is a life-giver." Frank looked over at Aurelle and said, "You know I would do this myself if I could, don't you, my dear?"
"I know, Frank," she told him.
"Aurelle, how can you leave Frank when you know he still needs you?" Lucretia asked sorrowfully.
"No need to get tragic, Mother," said Frank gently.
"Oh, I won't be leaving Frank," said Aurelle confidently. "Death can't separate us."
"What about your son?" Octavius ventured to ask.
"Don't worry about me, Mum," said Neville. "You do what you have to do."
"I've got a pair of Gryffindors backing me up," said Aurelle, taking Neville's hand.
"Just remember, Aurelle, I haven't agreed to this yet," said Octavius sternly, "and I have a say in how my research will be used."
"I know, Octavius," she said, smiling at him. "You probably hope I'm still delusional, but that's over now."
"So," said Lucius Malfoy. "Saint Potter casts out demons and heals the sick … but it didn't turn out quite the way you planned, did it?" And Pettigrew, who had stood dumb as a post after the Curser was destroyed, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
Harry shrugged. "I didn't know what would happen," he said. "Anyway, it wasn't me, it was Salazara."
"Harry," said Frank. "Let me have the Trempath. You've kept it too long."
Harry had to agree. It had been a gruelling session. He went to Frank's bed and handed the Trempath over. "Thank you, Harry," said Frank. "Your job is finished. And Ivy, Octavius, Severus, Neville, Ron, and Hermione, our thanks to you all; and most especially to Salazara." Ivy brought her Runespoor over to Frank so that he could touch her. She slid onto the bed and regarded Frank with her three heads. "It is an honour to serve you, Frank Longbottom," they said together. "You will soon be well."
Someone pounded briskly on the door. "My Anti-Interruption spell must be wearing off," said Octavius. He opened the door and the Matron strode in, shouting, "What on earth is going on in here?" Nurse Colleen, behind her, peeked in the door with wide, scared eyes, and then vanished.
The Matron caught sight of Ivy and Hermione, alias Iris and Hortense, and added, "What are you girls doing here? I've been looking for you. You finished making those beds by magic, didn't you?"
"Yes, Matron," Ivy whispered. "I'm frightfully sorry."
"I can tell the difference, you know," the Matron said frostily. "We do it without magic for very important reasons, which I shouldn't have to repeat. It was all covered in your orientation."
"We must have missed that part," Ivy squeaked, her eyes enormous.
The Matron recognized Ron too. "You promised to keep an eye on these young ladies!"
"Well, I—" started Ron.
"It was my fault, Matron," Hemione broke in. "I used my wand to finish off the beds —we were in a bit of a hurry. But you might want to check the beds in Room 228. We really surpassed ourselves on those."
"But I didn't ask you to make those beds," the Matron said in a puzzled voice. Then she caught sight of Salazara. "Who is the owner of that snake? Snakes aren't allowed at St. Mungo's."
Lucius Malfoy pointed at Ivy. "It belongs to that child. She brought it in here."
"That's right, blame everything on Ivy," said Ron angrily.
"Your name's not Iris?" the Matron asked, distracted for a moment.
"Well, not exactly," said Ivy. "My grandmother's was, though."
"And what are you doing here, Lucius Malfoy?" the Matron pursued, her hands on her hips. "I thought I told you you couldn't just waltz in here whenever the notion took your fancy."
She looked around again and realized that the two Longbottom patients were both awake and apparently rational. "Octavius, perhaps you can explain what's been happening in this room. Is everything quite all right?"
"Things are going as well as can be expected," returned Octavius, looking a bit shaken. "It's a long story. I assure you I'll submit a full report."
"And what's that dreadful smell!?"
"A Curser has met its death in this room," said Ivy solemnly. She pointed to the puddle.
"That should be cleaned up immediately," declared the Matron, "and that hole repaired." She studied the room once more, and a pucker appeared between her eyebrows. "Have these walls been repainted recently?"
"You have no idea," murmured Octavius, much to Ron's amusement.
"Matron, Aurelle and I would like to be alone for a while," said Frank. "There are things we need to talk about."
"I'll take this crowd over to Bungo's for a little refreshment," said Octavius. "You're not invited, Lucius. But you're welcome to join us, Severus."
"It's late," said Professor Snape. "I think I'll be getting back to Hogwarts, Octavius."
"As you wish, Severus," said Octavius with a smile.
"What about Pettigrew and Crouch? They're not invited, are they?" asked Ron. He was still holding Pettigrew at leechpoint.
"I should think not," said Lucretia.
"Matron, perhaps I can prevail upon you to keep these two in custody for a short time," said Octavius. "Crouch has escaped from Azkaban and he's missing his soul, and Pettigrew is an Animagus, so you must take great care that he doesn't escape as a rat."
"I thought they were both dead," said the Matron rather blankly.
"It would be easier if they were, wouldn't it?" said Professor Snape drily. "Perhaps it can be arranged." He scowled at them both.
The Matron frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps I could put a security detail on it …" Her face cleared. "I know! I'll send them over to Madam Nightingale for counseling. She can handle them."
"Madam Nightingale is a good soul," said Octavius. "A bit narrow, a bit inclined to see everything in terms of her profession … but always ready to help. She let me take a short cut through her clinic when I went to get Severus at Hogwarts. I can escort other people into and out of paintings with me."
"A most interesting experience," said Professor Snape.
"And Mr. Malfoy can join her Death Eaters Anonymous group," said Hermione.
"An excellent plan," said the Matron. "After Malfoy, Crouch, and Pettigrew clean up the mess, they can go down to the quiet lounge."
Malfoy looked scandalized. "I? Clean the floor?"
"I will supervise the operation," said Professor Snape, "and take them to their counseling session before I leave." He trained his wand on Malfoy. "You have a choice, Lucius. You can help clean the floor, or you can have another round of the Broken Record Spell, or perhaps a taste of the Tickling Charm. Or possibly a leech would be more to your liking?" Lucius glared back, his lips compressed. Professor Snape looked over at his brother and added, "Actually, Octavius, if you could accompany our little group to see Madam Nightingale, it would be—even better."
"I think I take your meaning, Severus," said Octavius, looking significantly back at him. "I will be at your service as soon as I've done a short errand … I shall meet the rest of you at Bungo's Tea Shop," he told the students, and left the room quickly.
"But isn't it closed at this hour?" asked Neville.
"I'll take you there," said Lucretia Longbottom. "The owner knows me. I'll make sure he lets us in."
Before they left, Ron gave his leech to the mute Crouch with instructions for Moody, who seemed happy to take over threatening Pettigrew with it, and Harry handed the Marauder's Map over to Aurelle. "You might need this," he said.
"Thank you, Harry," said Aurelle as she received it. "I'll try to make sure it's returned to you when I'm finished with it."
"If there's anything left of it by then," he added a bit wistfully. He placed his wand tip on it one last time.
"I've got it," said Prongs. "We'll make Wormtail eat a dish of tapioca every day."
"Wonderful for the digestion," agreed Moony.
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AN: Will be traveling for a few days but will come back next week to post final chapters and epilogue. Am behind on courtesy reviewing but will catch up. Kyntor, I am reading one of your favorites and enjoying it (Never Alone, Never Again). Twice as long as mine! Watch for HP and the Portrait Studio, coming soon. --ILL